Gemotions

He was standing, silent, at the doorway to the home office. He saw the Cyrillic alphabet, scrawled across a whiteboard. His wife, Anna, was sitting, head down, and practicing the language of her ancestors. The language he'd always found to be 'difficult'.

He couldn't speak, he couldn't move. He felt a cold dread creeping through his veins, spreading its way through his body. He’d always prided himself on his understanding of her. And now, he felt like a stranger.

His grip tightened on the door frame. He took a shaky breath, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. Then, without a word, he turned and retreated, closing the door softly behind him.